


Truth or Drink

by whathobertie



Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whathobertie/pseuds/whathobertie
Summary: A little danger, a little fun, a little flirting. Maybe the perfect combination.
Relationships: Gillian Foster/Cal Lightman
Kudos: 10





	Truth or Drink

He was leaning casually against the doorframe. “You want a drink?”

She didn’t have to think twice. “After this day? Yeah.”

He waited for her to join him, so they could walk side-by-side to his office, like the partners-in-crime they were. In his office a bottle of Talisker already greeted them on the coffee table and two glasses were waiting. He knew she would join him.

Gillian took a seat on the leather couch and he plopped down dramatically right next to her. Cal watched her for a while before pouring them both a drink that was a little too generous, but probably appropriate for the day.

“Cheers,” he said and they clinked glasses.

He fell back against the backrest and exhaled loudly.

She traced along the rim of her glass with her finger and tender fascination. “You think she really didn’t know her husband would do that?”

“Sure seemed like it. Apparently she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.”

“Do we ever?” she asked sincerely.

“Probably not.” He turned his head to look at her. “You know me better than anyone else, though.” It had something tender, the way he said it.

“And yet there’s plenty of things I don’t know about you.” She smiled and sipped on her drink.

He kept looking at her, and it almost felt as if he was looking _for_ something, before he sat up again in a quick movement and put the lid on the nearly-but-not-quite-empty whisky bottle. He placed it on the table sideways and grinned at her.

“Truth or Dare?” she asked.

“Let’s do Truth or Drink.”

Not entirely convinced that this was a good idea, but grateful for every bit of distraction, she nodded and leaned forward to spin the bottle. It took three tries until it pointed to either of them; him to be precise.

Cal took his glass and drowned the rest of his whisky. He spun the bottle and it took another three attempts until it pointed at him again. He opened the bottle, poured another generous glass and immediately drank half of it.

“Are you just going to choose Drink all the time?”

He snorted. “Need to gather some courage before we get to the Truth part. And I like this stuff.”

In the next round, the bottle finally pointed to her. “So, what do you want to know?”

His eyes narrowed a little “Are we going deep here?”

Her shrug was somewhere between ‘yes’ and ‘maybe’.

“Okay, what happened between you and your parents?”

Ah yes, he wasn’t joking around. Gillian laughed a little about his blatant curiosity and thought about how to put it. “My father was drunk on all the days that meant something to me when growing up. My prom, my graduation, hell, even my theatre performances in elementary school. My mom always defended him, never standing up to him. We had a strained relationship because of that.”

She took a breath that was more shaky than she would have wanted it to be. “And then much later they said something to me that hurt a lot.” She smiled bravely and just left it at that.

He felt a little uneasy himself all of a sudden and searched his brain for something to say that could possibly lighten the mood. “Maybe we should scrap the drinking part of this drinking game.”

She laughed. “After just one question?”

“I’m getting the feeling we both had our fair share of alcoholic drama when growing up already.”

“And yet here we are now, drowning the day in a drink.”

“I’d like to think we still know when to stop. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking when it comes to me.”

“Pour me the rest and we’ll just take small sips from here on,” she ordered and he happily obliged.

After two more spins, the bottle pointed at him again. “Truth then,” he said.

“What did you think when you first walked into my office at the Pentagon?” she wanted to know.

“Something along the lines of: ‘Aw damn, I wanted to hate her, but she’s cute and has a bigger office than I do. What the fuck.’ Though I didn’t like the sofa cushions.”

“Me neither.”

He grinned, but added something on a more sober note: “Us meeting was a pretty awful, yet lucky mess.”

“I guess you could say that,” she agreed and spun the bottle, only for it to point into his direction more than into hers again.

There was a question on her mind stemming from the last topic, but for a moment she was reluctant to really go there. “Did you—” she stopped again, but he gestured at her to go there, “did you ever have to kill somebody yourself? I don’t mean like declaring someone as fair game because of something you saw. Like with Doyle.”

“Geez, we really _are_ going deep here.” Slouching a little further into the sofa, he thought back to some of his darkest days. Then he looked her in the eye. “Yeah.” Pause. “British intelligence, not over here. One of the reasons I left for D.C.”

She swallowed a little harder than usual, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. “What were the other ones?”

“Running away from a failed relationship, a research contract with the potential of making me rich, and the prospect of more fabulous fast-food options in America.” It made her laugh and somehow that made him happy.

In the next round, the bottle stopped in front of him again. He groaned and she grinned.

“What really happened between you and Rader? I keep asking that question.”

“Ha,” he exclaimed, “and I keep saying you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“Okay. First he tried to long-con me, then he tried to blackmail me, and then he threatened to get you to turn against me.”

She was a little disappointed. “Oh, there I thought he actually liked me.”

“I thought he actually liked you a little too much. Told me, you two would make the better pair of Bonnie and Clyde. Told him that you’re not the Bonnie to either of our Clydes. Bonnie was a criminal, too, in case he didn’t know. His comparisons and metaphors always were a mess. Plonker.”

She smiled. “So, you were protecting me again?”

“Just setting him up for failure.” He did that little cocky wink that she found weirdly adoring.

“Of course you were. What did he try to blackmail you with?”

“Oh, it gets funnier there. A picture of you and me in which we looked a little too cozy. He threatened to send it to Zoe.”

“Really?” She couldn’t believe it.

“See, I said you’d think I’m lying, but I swear I’m not making this shit up. He’s a scumbag.”

“Wow.” She didn’t know what to say, except maybe voicing the need to kick him in the balls the next time she would see him.

He moved a little closer to her and in typical Lightman fashion didn’t really try to hide that fact by overly covert movements. “Did you ever cheat on somebody?”

“Have we given up on spinning the bottle and the option of drinking?”

He took it as an invitation to scoot into her personal space even further. Surely nobody else would take it that way, but he did. “Yeah, this is better,” he said, distracted by her eyes.

He liked this game more and more. A little danger, a little fun, a little flirting. Maybe the perfect combination.

“So have you? Cheated on anybody?”

“No,” she replied firmly.

“I thought so.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought so.”

He snorted. “Not on Zoe, though.”

She held her ground and did not move away from him. It’s always some kind of weird battle they’re carrying out. One in which he tries to see how far he can go, and she in return tries to see how far he would.

“Speaking of her, how many times have you slept with Zoe since you two got divorced?”

“Too many,” he answered right away and held her gaze.

“More than a handful of times?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. His matter-of-factly answers and the slight embarrassment mixed with a bit of cocky pride she could detect on his face made her laugh.

“She always gets into your head. You let her get into your head.”

He knew that much and grinned. “Are you seeing someone?” Turning the tables quickly was one of his specialty areas.

“Not since the guy I met online who still lived with his mother.”

“Maybe I’d live with my mother if she wasn’t’ dead.”

“I doubt it.”

This game had taken on a life of its own. They didn’t even have to think about questions any longer. They just blurted out whatever shot into their heads. Dangerous and exciting territory.

Her turn again. “Would you rather run this business on your own? Without me interfering and holding you back?”

“I’d spectacularly drive this business into the ground without you. Give me a week or two, so no.”

“Just because you’d fail?”

“Nah, also because I would miss you.” He gestured between them. “And this.” Meaning the game and probably more.

That clearly was the more satisfying version of his answer, and maybe also the more truthful one.

Oh, he had something delicious and grinned with bared teeth before even muttering a word of it. “On a scale from one to ten—”

This could go anywhere, but probably not to a good place, she thought.

“—how much did you like that kiss we had while pretending to be a kinky couple?”

“Seven, due to weird circumstances of being in the offices of a porn film production and a missing girl we were trying to find. I’d reckon you liked it a little more than I did.” Her turn to wink at him.

“Yeah, mine was a ten, but seven’s not bad.” Nonchalant shrug.

They both grinned at each other for a whole while, not saying anything. Distance was just a concept they once heard about, but one that didn’t apply here any longer. The ‘line’ spectacularly trampled on. To hell with it; this was better.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

“Loosing Emily.” She knew he would say that. “Or you.” She somehow knew that, too.

“What was the insensitive thing your parents said?”

In a split second she wasn’t even aware of, she backed off a little and maybe her eyes widened, pointing to a hint of shock. He saw it or rather felt it, too, and immediately wanted to take it back, but at the same time this seemed like destroying all of what they just had had.

So he said nothing instead and she took some time before answering.

“When Alec and I tried, and it didn’t work, they said that I probably didn’t deserve to get pregnant after having had an abortion when I was in college.”

He too backed off a little and again immediately regretted it. He didn’t want her to see it as not being supportive of her.

After some uncomfortable silence, he found some words that seemed appropriate and true at the same time. “Sorry. They don’t deserve _you_ , is what I think.”

The smile she managed to produce was loaded with sadness. She took her glass from the table and drowned the last bit of whisky in one go. “Enough for today. Time to go home.”

He watched her get up and leave with movements that were faster than his useless brain. He drowned the last bit of his drink as well, before getting his jacket and turning off the lights.

Then just a little later he was leaning against the doorframe of her office again. Less casually and more concerned this time. “Sorry, did I go too far?”

She gathered her things and then walked in his direction—stopping right in front of him. She shook her head gently. “No, you didn’t. All good, don’t worry. Wanna share a cab?”

Some relief flooded his body. “Sure.”

On the backseat of the cab he tried to come up with something funny to say, but his brain wouldn’t let him. So instead he settled on watching her follow the scenery of night-time D.C. and thought about the things that weren’t but possibly could be.

She caught him watching her at one point and put her hand on his leg. “Stop worrying about it. I can hear your thoughts.”

“I hope not,” he replied. Some things are better safely stowed away in his head.

She didn’t move her hand. “Wait, there are still secrets you’re hiding from me?”

Oh, the things she made him feel, damn. He put his own hand over hers and squeezed a little. “We’d need fifty more drinking games for that, love. At least.”

“I’ll let you keep a few of your secrets.”

She never took her hand away and neither did he, so for the rest of the ride until the car stopped in front of her house, they casually held hands and it was perfectly nice.

“Are you going to pay for the whole ride at your place?” she asked him while opening the door.

“Yeah,” he said and let go of her hand, feeling as if a part of him suddenly got amputated.

She started getting out of the car and without really thinking he addressed the taxi driver. “You know what, I’m getting off here as well. Gonna walk the rest of the way.”

He paid and she waited for him with a smile. “You know it’s about three miles, right?”

“You’re saying I can’t walk three miles?” He accompanied her to the door.

“I’m saying maybe you’d like to share another truth with me. Am I right?” She did that little innocent shrug that got him a tiny bit weak and maybe a tiny bit aroused.

They both knew where this was heading, and at the same time they both weren’t sure whether it really was heading there. She made no serious attempt to find the keys in her purse, and he made no serious attempt to actually start walking in the direction of his own house. They were stuck right here until some kind of resolution.

“Well, walking into your Pentagon office for the first time back then, I also thought for a brief moment that if I would ever cheat on Zoe, then maybe with somebody like you.” He got dangerously close again.

“Just somebody _like_ me?”

Point taken. “There’s no one like you anyway.”

“But you wouldn’t have.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

She stepped closer and he didn’t think that was even possible. How bold of her. “What’s stopping you now?”

There was an attempt to read her features, but he just saw his own excitement, lust and confusion reflected on her face. In return she watched his pupils dance around—a clear sign of him trying to get a read on somebody, but she knew the scientist had long left the building.

“Is this still Truth or Drink?” he wanted to know.

“Truth or Dare.”

“What’s the dare you’re proposing? ‘Cause I might be choosing that one this time.”

She let out a little laugh. “You know what the dare is.”

He kissed her on the lips and withdrew again slowly. “That one?”

“That one,” she whispered and cupped his face to pull him towards her for more.

After the kiss, they felt the unreality of suddenly getting what you wanted for so long. It made him stare at her face for a couple of blissful seconds. “Was it a ten now?” he quipped.

She just laughed and shook her head.

“Better than seven? Come on.”

She gently wiped some of her lipstick from his lips and continued smiling. “I’ll tell you in the next round of Truth or Drink. Are you still going to walk the rest of the way?”

“To your bedroom? Yeah sure, how else would I get there?”

It wasn’t really walking in the end. They more or less stumbled into her bedroom together, turning their most closely guarded truth into a long-awaited reality.

**THE END**


End file.
